Regular Ralph

It's 4:26am. I sure do wish I was asleep. I don't want to ever go through what I'm going through now again. Never.

It all started earlier today, around 4:30pm. One of my buddies is a Pittsburgh Steeler fan, and we went to a bar in Pioneer Square to watch their playoff game against Jacksonville. I'd had a moderate amount of food to eat on Saturday, although I knew I'd need to grab dinner at some point on Saturday night.

During halftime of the Steeler game, I walked outside the bar, declined a street shoe shine, and bought a hot dog from a street vendor. It cost $4.00. I gave the man $5.00 and stood on the sidewalk and ate my dog. While I knew that wouldn't be good for dinner, I figured it could at least tide me over.

The Steeler game ended around 8:30 or so, and we decided to hang out. Though I had been drinking bourbon and cokes pretty regularly for a while now, I really didn't feel that intoxicated. In fact, I felt pretty sober. It was about this time that my stomach started hurting, at little and first and then building and building. By 10:00, I leaning on my elbows on the bar because I couldn't stand up straight.

I closed my tab hoping that the others would follow. My friend asked me if I wanted to go home or somewhere else, and I said I didn't care, although I was crossing my fingers everyone else would want to call it a night.

It's about 10:30 now. I was watching a female friends purse and pea-coat when my stomach started turning over big time. I knew what was coming. I grabbed her belongings and made a bee-line for the door. Once outside, I was able to squat down behind a metal queuing device, somewhat obstructed from view. I thought maybe if I'd just sit down (I'd been standing on my feet for six hours now) that'd I'd be ok. Before I could find out, I began to vomit. Two things struck me immeditaely. Although there were plenty of people around, nobody seemed to see me, one, and two, I really was pretty sober. My mind was fluid and there was no confusion about what was going on. I stood up and left the scene of that misdeed, declined to give a panhandler any change (I really don't like Pioneer Square anymore) and vomited on a tree on the other side of the building, hidden from view.

I didn't know if the bouncers saw either time, but I wasn't trying to go back inside the bar either. I send my friend two text messages that said "Come outside man".... A couple of minutes later the girl whose purse and pea-coat I was holding appeared and I told her what happened. She ribbed me a little bit, but I assured her that it wasn't an alcohol thing, but that something just hit me.

A few minutes later, everyone else emerged from the bar and decided to hit a different locale. I'm not normally one to part ways like this, but I had to make an executive call to come back to my place by myself. I'm glad I did too.

Once back in my apartment I made an ice water and stretched out on the couch. I felt it was safer than my bed. I said my prayers, and immediatly upon finishing, found myself racing to the bathroom the vomit again. Only this time, I wasn't a little. I think that I was calling Ralph for a minute or so. I had my hand on the toliet flush for what seemed like a long time, but couldn't even find a break in throwing up to flush. I soaked my hand towel in cold water and wrapped it around my neck. I figured if I could cool my body temp down, maybe I wouldn't throw up. Big "maybe"....

I'm on my knees in my bathroom, praying to God to "please, PLEASE let this be over."

I walked back out to the couch and lay down again. Around 1:00, I woke up with my stomach churning. I didn't even make it to the toliet this time, instead having to use the sink. Again, all I could do was pray to PLEASE let this end..... these painful heaves of vomit with a wet towel wrapped around my neck.

Stomach problems always get me down. I used to have them a lot as a kid, but thankfully not so much now. Anyway, when I do have a stomach issue, I find that it's impossible to visualize any other phase of my life without severe stomach ache. I guess that this exacerbates the problem somewhat, and generally makes me depressed, believing that I can no longer function in any arena of my life without having to throw up, vomit, sweat, and snot all pouring out of different parts of my face while I pray about how bad I'm hurting and how I just wish it was over.

I always know things are bad when the most I can muster is "Please help me God, please help me." I've found myself praying that walking through the airport in Atlanta after having said good bye to my family for another several months. Now, tonight, I can't even think about that without imagining that I was also hurt to point of needing to vomit in the airport or on the plane, and frankly I wonder how that's never happened before.

Back on the sofa around 1:15, I began making a check list of everything that I'd eaten on Saturday. By now, even though I know it was very cheap, bad bourbon at the bar, I couldn't blame that. I'm way too sober, and I never even really tied on a real strong buzz. The bourbon didn't help, I'm sure, but I doubt that it's the culprit.

Here's what I had on Saturday"

McDonalds large black coffee (8:50am)*
Seafood salad (10:30am)*
Two pieces of smoked salmon (12:45pm)*
A bowl of Special K Red Berry Cereal (3:00pm)*
A few handfuls of peanuts (various)*
A street vendor hot dog (6:45pm)
A single barbaque potato chip off someone else's plate that we were eating off of (9:00pm)*

* -- Things that I've consumed plenty of times before.

At this point, I find it very likely that the street vendor dog was the culprit. It tasted ok, I watched the guy cook it. Everyting else that I ate/ drank today were things that I'd consumed any number of times in the past without getting sick. I eat seafood salad several times a week. Same for smoked salmon. I'll eat that red berry cereal EVERY DAY unless I'm just out of it. The milk I used in it Saturday was in date.

I was able to drift off for a few minutes on the couch again. I woke up at 2:00 to vomit again. My hips and back are starting to get sore from sleeping on the sofa. Normally that's not an issue. But I'm trying so hard not to move that I'm forcing myself to stay in one position for 45 minutes or more. I can only sleep more than a few minutes at a time.

Around 3:00, I decided to sit up and have an ice water. This was a delacate move, because I didn't want to do anything too quick or sudden, lest my stomach become upset again. I very slowly sat up and put my feet on the floor. I stood up and made another ice water and drank it. I tried to drink it slowly, but as you can imagine, I'm pretty dehydrated by this point, so I had to drink it moderately fast. 15 minutes later, more throwing up.

I awoke again around 4:00 wondering if this was all over. My plan was to make a bowel movement (as my stomach was still very unsettled) and then migrate to bed if there were no problems in the rest room. Immediatly after I finished with the #2 and washed my hands, I had to call Ralph again. By now, there's just not much left. I debated for a minute about calling an ambulance and going to the hospital, although the more rational side of me believes that this is just a "thing" that will run its course. I tell ya though, if I'm still throwing up at 8:00am, I'm not going to have a choice. If nothing else, I'll have to take an IV to rehydrate.

But let's hope it won't come to that. I'm working on another ice water as we speak and I figure that tomorrow will be spent pouring massive amouts of water and gatorade down my throat. I say "tomorrow".... it's really today, it'll be getting light in a few hours.

It looks like I'll have to cancel my trip to Port Townsend on Sunday. Washington State Ferries was doing a special run from Seattle to Port Townsend on a small, passenger only boat. The fare is $6.70 round trip and the ride is an hour and a half each way. Sunday is to be the last day. That would've given me a chance to see some things that I'd never seen before, but oh well.... unless something major happens, I'm going to hav a hard time leaving the home base on Sunday.

I really feel like garbage. My whole body hurts. My back, my stomach, my feet, my hips. It's all stiff and sore. Sure do wish I could find some sleep, but I can't even get comfortable enough to sustain it. Maybe the vomiting is over now too, let's cross our fingers. I don't think that a stomach deal has ever hit me as hard as one did tonight.

They say that one bad apple spoils the bunch. And not that street vendor hot dogs are staple of my daily diet anyway, but I have a hard time believing that I'll ever buy another street dog as long as I live.